A Midsummer Night's Dream
by Yukitoshuu Itsumademo
Summary: Helga tries to forget about Arnold by becoming involved with the play, Arnold breaks his arm thanks to Eugene playing football. He tries out for the play and sparks fly between the two when Helga must take over as director. Completed
1. The Fantasy Begins

_A Midsummer Night's Dream_

By Arnoldnhelga4eva

Disclaimer: Okay, okay, so I didn't technically write the original version of A Midsummer Night's Dream…Shakespeare did…or was it Shakespeare…with all the controversy going on, it could have been as many as ten men who go by the pseudonym Shakespeare…but I do know all the HA characters belong to the talented Craig Bartlett.

Let the show begin!

Just for the record, I am a Shakespeare and Woolf FANATIC!

* * *

"Pheebs, that's the worst idea I've heard in ages." Helga slapped another flyer on the wall. "I mean, it's bad enough that I'm helping you put up these flyers for this…what is it…_A Midsummer Night's Dream_…right, Shakespeare. There wasn't even a Shakespeare."

"That's a myth, and you know that, Helga." Phoebe straightened her glasses. "And besides, as Stage Manager, I need to recruit people to work on the play, and I think it would do you some good to get your mind off Arno---I mean…Ice Cream."

"Oh would you cut it out with the stupid nick name? He all ready knows anyway, remember? Somehow the whole freaking school found out."

"Well we also know that the only reason you're the manager for the football team is because Arnold is first string quarterback."

"Yeah, so what's your point?"

"My point is, Helga, do this instead; help me stage manage. Tell the coach that you need to focus your studies to the arts."

"Are you kidding me? Wittenberg would never go for that shit."

"Just try it, Helga." Phoebe sighed and pulled Helga into an empty classroom. "It's been almost ten years…and we're going off to college next year. Take this year to fall out of love with him."

Helga sighed. "It's not that easy Pheebs."

"I know it isn't, but it won't make it any easier to pine over him all year and then go off to college."

Helga sighed.

"Besides, it's good to hear Shakespeare. His words are good for the soul."

"I prefer Woolf."

"She killed herself you know."

"Yeah, but she told it as it was, and didn't create fairies and magic and all that crap. I feel like I can trust her."

"She walked into a river."

"So what if she's crazy?" Helga turned on her heels and looked her best friend square in the eye.

"Fine, but if I don't like it after a week, I'm quitting."

"Deal." They shook on it.

* * *

"Come on you pansies! Hut to it! I wouldn't call that a damn throw football head! What the hell are you doing?" Arnold panted as he fell toward the cool earth. He wanted to sink into it and never return. "Get your ass up right now boy!"

"Fine," he said with a grunt and pulled himself from the soft ground.

"Let's run that play one more time boys and then maybe I'll let you get some stinkin' water." He blew the whistle as the players began charging at each other. Coach Wittenberg turned to the boy next to him.

"Who the hell are you?"

"My name's Eugene, sir."

"Well where in God's name is Pataki, boy!"

"Uhhhh, she said she was doing set for the fall play, something about the artistical value. But she…uh…she quit…sir…"

"What?"

As the coach began screaming at Eugene for Helga's absence, Arnold wound up, ready to throw the ball as number 32 tackled him, pinning him flat to the ground.

"Whoa…time out you girls. Get the hell off my quarterback!" Wittenberg pushed the players out of the way before he came to Arnold who laid spread eagle on his stomach.

"Call an ambulance!" Wittenber yelled but Arnold shot up off the ground.

"No, really, I'm okay coach. Don't call an ambulance."

"Don't call an ambulance!" Coach Wittenberg yelled to Eugene whose slight deafness prevented him from hearing the last words. He was running in circles, trying not to panic when he jumped in the golf cart, accidentally putting it in reverse.

"You okay there, man?" Gerald took his helmet off and knelt next to Arnold.

"Yeah, I'll be fine."

"Okay, walk it off boy."

"Look out!" Eugene yelled, but Arnold wasn't fast enough to move out of the way. Instead, he saw Eugene roll by on the golf cart, as his left arm was successfully smashed beneath the wheel.

"Don't worry! Help is on its way because Eugene is here to save the day!" he yelled as the little car sped toward the school.

"Oh shit!" Wittenberg yelled as Arnold painfully clutched his limp arm. "Damn that boy! Someone go fire him!"

"We can't do that coach, he's volunteering."

"Well…go tell him not to come back!"

"No," Arnold said gritting through his teeth. "It's not his fault. I just need some water or something." Things were starting to blend together. The green grass with the pale sky, the worried murmurs over the sirens of the ambulance. It was all he could remember as it swirled together before turning black.

* * *

Students walked aimlessly into the classroom, trying to think of excuses to get out of class. English was the subject, a language they were entirely familiar with, yet a subject that bored them with its nonsense. Not a soul, not a single human cared to read books or write stories when they could be out shopping or doing calculus. No one, except Phoebe, of course.

And Helga Pataki.

It was known widely that Helga was well versed. Her tongue was sharper than a whip and her dry humor winning an insufferable race with Arizona.

The bell rang as Arnold ran into the room, finding his seat quickly before Mr. Broddenham decided to lecture the class the whole hour about promptness.

"Hey Arnold, I heard about your arm."

"Yeah, sorry man. And we thought we'd win this year too." The remarks have been coming all day. While he felt guilty about letting the school down, he couldn't help but feel relieved. Now he had time to figure out what the hell Mr. Broddenham was talking about with this book.

"_To The Lighthouse_," the teacher droned, making a dramatic appearance at the doorway. "Virginia Woolf's finest novel. Tell me, class, what did you make of the book now that we've finished?"

Only one person raised their hand. It was a person non one expected to answer a teacher, no matter how well versed she may have been.

"I disagree with your previous statement." Everyone gasped.

"Quiet down class." The murmuring stopped. Their teacher took a deep breath and looked toward Helga with a labored smile. "Okay, and how do you believe you support that answer?"

"While many critics find her work to be confusing, there is no other book more confusing, yet entirely truthful than _Orlando_."

"Miss Pataki, _Orlando_ is not…"

"A novel, I know. Supposedly it's a biography. Right, so Orlando was born in the Elizabethan era and somehow died in the early 1920's? There's no way. We all know it's a big joke between her and Vita."

"Whose Vita?" This came from the back of the room.

"Her sideline lover." People gasped. "Mrs. Woolf wrote the novel describing events that happened in Vita's life, which is why it is a biography, yet she pokes fun at the people she detests in a manner that few understand."

"Yes, it is irony, but in…"

"Yeah, yeah, in the other book there is lots of meaning and a strange love formed and blah blah blah. If you want to talk about meaning I'd make the class read _Mrs. Dalloway._ THAT is the most critically acclaimed book by Virginia Woolf."

"Yet you continue to disagree with the experts, Miss Pataki?"

"Yes."

"The people who have Ph.Ds?"

"Yes."

"Well then, anyone else?" Helga sat back triumphantly in her seat as the rest of the class tried to hold their jaws to their mouths. A cricket played his violin in the corner of the classroom. Arnold smiled secretly to know that someone had finally beaten their arrogant know-it-all teacher. "Okay. With that said, onto other order. We will be holding try-outs for the fall play _A Midsummer Night's Dream_ in the auditorium after school. Anyone who has experience and even those who don't are welcome to audition. Seeing as we have no program to build from after trying to direct for ten years, I am happy to announce that we will be having a professional director fly in from New York to take this school under his wings. Anyone with the ability to speak will be considered for parts."

An hour passed in which the rest of the class was successful in doing absolutely nothing while Helga had written four poems by the time the bell rang. Arnold got up gingerly from his seat and made his way over to her.

"Still writing poetry?" Helga jumped and almost dropped the papers that had long profession of love for a certain flaxen-haired boy written in scrawl.

"Stop doing that football head! Crimeny." She continued to stuff books and papers into her back pack.

"Sorry, but I was just going to ask you if you were trying out for the play?" Helga looked at him for a second before she burst out laughing. "What?"

She pounded her fist on the table as another wave of laughter overcame her. "You actually thought I'd be involved in Shakespeare? The lord of love?" She laughed again as Arnold stared at her crossly.

"Well, for someone who writes so much love poetry herself and who starred in Romeo and Juliet when we were younger, I thought it would be fitting." He stomped away from her and she sighed.

"Why do I do this to myself?"

As Arnold ran through the hall, bumping into a few strangers and ignoring anyone who called him, he finally came to the audition list and wrote his name down in a sloppy scrawl…after all, Eugene had broken his throwing hand and he had officially been retired by Coach Wittenberg. What could a little Shakespeare hurt? He'd show her.

But what did he want to show her? Why?

He wasn't quite sure, but this feeling was so intense and felt so right as he walked on toward his next class, thinking about the audition that would take place in shy of a few hours.

* * *

Well, that's not my best work, but I find it pretty witty. I haven't written H/A in soooooo long! This feels so good to write! Stupid AP classes…

Hope you enjoyed,

And stay tuned as the plot thickens!

C ya l8ter!

Arnoldnhelga4eva


	2. New Directors

Disclaimer: I do not own Hey Arnold…talk to Craig Bartlett

Chapter 2: New Directors

* * *

Helga had to admit…the audition was quite pathetic. 

William Thornstock, a popular theater director in California had come to Hillwood high school to direct a play…A Midsummer Night's Dream, to be exact. When he first stepped foot inside the school, he expected to have a lot of talent to choose from. He was sadly, horribly mistaken.

"To be! Orrrrrrr NOT to be. That is…the question." Curly recited rather dreadfully. Thornstock looked as though he wanted to kill himself…not too far from the speech. "Whether 'tis nobler—"

"Thank you, Thaddeus."

"My name is Curly."

"Yes, yes, thank you…Curly." The boy on stage threw the director a glare and walked off stage, looking as though he was plotting something. "Next?"

"But, soft! what light through yonder window breaks?  
It is the east, and Juliet is the sun.  
Arise, fair sun, and kill the envious moon,  
Who is already sick and pale with grief,  
That thou her maid art far more fair than she:  
Be not her maid, since she is envious;  
Her vestal livery is but sick and green  
And none but fools do wear it; cast it off.  
It is my lady, O, it is my love!  
O, that she knew she were!"

"Perfect, you, boy, will play the Fairy king." Helga looked up. "What's your name?"

"Arnold, sir"

"Well, Arnold, have you ever been in a play before?"

"Romeo and Juliet."

Thornstock nodded pensively. "Yes, Oberon will do. Next?" Arnold shrugged and walked off stage. Helga, who had been fast asleep in her chair next to Phoebe was now wide awake. Arnold? Arnold was going to play Oberon? Oh, how could this not possibly get any better?

"Set your heart at rest…the fairyland buys not the child of me." Thornstock was sitting forward in his seat thoroughly engrossed. "His mother was a vot'ress of my order. And in the spice'd Indian air by night full often hath she—"

"You're Titania," Thornstock said, scribbling on his clipboard. "Name?"

"Sheena."

"Right, right. Next?" A petite girl walked on stage, her long aburn hair encasing her face in a stream of waves. Helga scowled immediately.

"Oh Romeo, Romeo. Where art thou Romeo?" Helga smirked. She had all ready messed up. "Oh, deny thy father, and refuse thy name, or if thou wilt not, be oh so sworn my love, and I'll no longer be a horrible Capulet."

"Enough, enough. You'll be Hermia." Helga was laughing silently to herself. It was obvious that Thornstock was sick with the turnout and was casting people now out of pity.

"Oh thank you ever so much!"

"Yes, yes…next."

"Don't you need my name, sir?"

"Oh, yeah, sure. What's your name?"

"It's Lila, sir."

"Great. Next!"

Soon, every other part was filled in the same fashion…yet the most important part was still empty.

"There's not a single soul here talented or crazy enough to play Puck."

"What about Curly?" Thornstock glared at Phoebe.

"No, no, he will not do. He is a bit too crazy."

"Isn't Puck the fool though? Shakespeare's fools are usually—"

"Yes, yes, I've directed this play multiple times, I know. I can't believe this is what I have to do to fill my probation…" The room went silent.

"W-well, Mr. Thornstock, may I suggest you go home and relax. Think it over tonight. We don't need to start practice for a week."

"Yes, yes, that sounds good. You're a good stage manager, Phoebe."

"I try."

"Who is your friend?"

"I'm Helga."

"Ah, well, I'd better be getting home." Thornstock stood and suntered out of the theater in a daze. He was obviously in over his head with the change in talent from Hollywood to Hillwood. Nevertheless, there was something about him.

"I don't like him, Phoebe."

"I know he's a bit hard to take, Helga."

"A bit hard to take? Phoebe, I know we don't have a lot of theatrical talent in this school, but he wasn't even letting the crazy person play the crazy fairy!"

"You should have tried out." Helga glowered at her. "I know you gave up these productions when we were in fourth grade, but just imagine playing opposite Arnold again."

Helga thought about it for a moment before shaking her head. "Eh, it's not the same, Phoebe. Theater is fake, as would be our love."

"That was beautiful."

"I try."

Phoebe laughed. "Let's get going."

As they walked outside in a silent haze, brilliant lights surrounded them, swirling in colors of blue and red. Sirens wailed, and uniformed officials crowded around one individual.

"Mr. Thornstock?" Phoebe shouted as the two girls ran toward the mob of people. "Excuse me? E-excuse, excuse me."

"Hey, buddy, what happened?" Helga poked a police man writing things down. The man looked up at her with furrowed eyes.

"He walked in the middle of the street and wouldn't move." Phoebe gasped. "The car didn't see him coming."

"Is he going to be okay?" Phoebe seemed petrified.

"Hopefully, but he'll be in a body cast for quite some time." The man walked away and Phoebe stood there, mouth gaping but unable to move. Helga only shook her head.

"What an idiot." Phoebe was still shocked by the whole situation. Helga pushed her in the direction of their houses. "Let's go home Phoebes."

Phoebe nodded vaguely as she was led home, not knowing what would happen now.

* * *

"What do you mean the director is in a body cast?" Park exclaimed. Phoebe had sat the cast down and told them the news. "Does that mean the play is off?" 

"Damn! And I was going to put this on my college resume!" Everyone stared at Harold. "What? I have dreams too!"

"Look, the point is, we have most of a cast, a tech crew, an assistant director and a productions manager, moi." Everyone stared at Helga. "We just need to find a new director."

"What about Simmons?"

"He's putting on Romeo and Juliet again."

"What about Phoebe?"

"Oh no," Phoebe blushed at the thought. "I couldn't possibly…I haven't got the proper training in Shakespeare to know what to possibly—"

"What about Helga?" Everyone turned to see who could have possibly volunteered Helga. Whoever it was, must not have cared so much for their limbs being torn off.

It was Arnold.

Helga was speechless. Arnold wanted her to be the director? How could he possibly… "What are you talking about football head?"

"You're the only one in our AP English class that understands Shakespeare, I know you could do it." Arnold seemed very sure of himself…even as Helga furrowed her eyebrow.

"How do you know that?"

"You would do it, somehow. I know you could." Everyone else was whispering about this exchange going on. Arnold continued to stare at Helga. "You were somehow able to learn Juliet's lines in a few days after Lila gave up her part in fourth grade…you could direct this play easily."

"Actually, that was much different—"

"There's no one else who could do it anyway, at least no one who would direct this play as well as you could." Arnold continued to stare her down, begging for her to break. Come on, Helga ol' girl. Don't give into him now.

Helga sighed and rolled her eyes. "Fine, I'll direct the stupid play, but only because no one else can." Arnold smiled and everyone else let out a sigh of relief. "Look, the first thing we gotta do is find Curly to tell him that he'll be playing Puck, other than that, you're dismissed."

Helga began to pack up and Phoebe patted her on the back. "I know you'll make a great director."

"Yeah, whatever Phoebes. Look, I suppose we should—"

"I'm glad you're doing this, Helga." She whipped around at the sound of the man who drove her crazy. He smiled at her and embraced her tightly. As she was about to wrap her arms around him, her demeanor kicked in and she pushed away from him.

"Look, we're keeping a professional relationship here, got it head boy?"

"Sure Helga, I'll see you tomorrow." Helga sighed as he walked away.

"You know, you can let down a little bit," Phoebe said behind her. "He seems to really like you."

"Maybe," Helga pondered, her eyes still lingering in the direction he left. She mentally slapped herself and turned back to her best friend. "Phoebes, you're coming to my house tonight, and we're drawing up schedules, costs, all the kinda stuff we need for this production."

"Coming!" Phoebe chimed as she picked up her clipboard and proceeded to follow Helga out of the auditorium.

* * *

A/N: Sorry I waited so long to post this. Thanks to all my reviewers…Keep them coming because it keeps me motivated to write the next chapter. :) 


	3. Fake Love

Disclaimer: I do not own Hey Arnold, nor do I own the words from A Midsummer Night's Dream…I did, however write that little spoof off the "To be or not to be" speech by Shakespeare in Hamlet…the speech that Helga gives everyone…oh you'll see.

* * *

Another day, another boring-as-hell class with Mr. Broddenham. The infernal teacher was writing some notes about Jane Eyre on the board. Arnold sighed as he flipped the sheet of paper in his notebook to a clean page and continued writing. He noticed that Helga had not once picked up her pencil to take any notes. Why wasn't he surprised? 

"Ahhh, yes, Jane Eyre. My personal favorite novel of any other. Even you, Miss Pataki can't argue that it's the greatest novel a Bronte has ever written."

"Oh but I can Mr. B." Helga replied with a smirk. She moved her feet off her desk and sat up straight. "The finest novel written by a Bronte is Wuthering Heights."

"But Wuthering Heights was written after Jane Eyre…with all its similarities, Emily might as well have copied Jane Eyre and sold it for herself."

"There's no way. Just because they grew up in the same setting and created characters like the people they knew doesn't make Emily a plagiarist. Emily created exactly what Charlotte did, but so much more. She created three different points-of-view and two entire generations of love stories mixed in with the most intense love ever recorded onto paper…however, I don't believe anyone could have or will ever love another person as much as Catherine and Heathcliff."

"What is that Miss Pataki?"

"The Brontes depict true love too strongly. No human can ever feel love as strong as their characters do."

"Don't you believe in true love?"

"I did…" she said clearly, and sighed. "But I don't anymore."

It felt as though she were saying this to him and not to their teacher. Arnold suddenly felt a huge wave of guilt cloud his chest. Was he really the reason Helga had given up? Had she truly given up on love, or was it something she guarded dearly with her life? A feeling kept locked up at all times for protection. She was only protecting herself.

The bell rang, and Helga moved out of the classroom quickly, not giving Arnold enough time to catch up to her. She was gone before he knew it.

* * *

"Man, Arnold! We're really going to get killed without you on the field." As good as it felt for Arnold to be missed, he couldn't believe he couldn't play his senior year. 

"Yeah."

"I still can't believe Eugene is a jinx after all those years."

"He's not the jinx, I guess I am."

"Arnold, Eugene will ALWAYS be a jinx."

"Whatever Gerald." They drove in silence a bit longer. Arnold was still worried about the incident in English earlier that day. He could hardly believe that Helga would…

"Gerald, stop the car!" The breaks squeaked violently and Arnold tried his best to put his good hand out in front of him lest they hit something.

"Arnold, what in the HELL made you yell at me like that." Arnold pointed to the side of the road where Helga Pataki was pulling a tire out of her trunk. It was obvious she had a flat tire.

"We should help her, Gerald." Before his friend could say anything Arnold was all ready halfway out of the car and standing behind Helga G. Pataki. Gerald only shook his head.

"Mm-mm-mm! That boy's got it bad."

Helga looked up from where she was fitting the jack under her car. "What do you want head-boy?"

"We were wondering if you needed any help fixing your tire." Helga scowled and began to crank the jack.

"Look, Arnoldo, savior of the world. I am perfectly capable of fixing a stupid flat tire on my ow—" Of course she spoke too soon as the jack fell loosely from under her car. She cursed loudly.

"I see you're in need of some service, young lady," Gerald said in a suave voice. Helga just glared at him.

"Well, seeing as you're not as much of a gimp as football head, I suppose I can let you fix my car." Gerald shrugged and began to set the jack under the car. "By the way, when are you planning on calling Phoebe again?"

"How about you tell her to call me, okay?" Gerald strained as he pumped the jack to lift the car. Helga scowled and moved to the side to let the man fix her tire. She hardly noticed Arnold move in behind her.

"Is it true, then," he asked her. "Have you really claimed to have given up on love?" Helga didn't look at him. She didn't respond. Thinking she hadn't heard him, he opened his mouth to repeat himself—

"You of all people should know, Arnold." Her voice was soft and…sad. He could almost hear the pieces of her heart shattering all over again.

"Look, Helga, that was a long time ago. Surely you must have—"

"You know, I really don't want to talk about this Arnold." He could detect a slight quiver in her voice. Feeling a bit awkward, he didn't say another word to her while Gerald fixed the tire on her car.

"Your ride is done m'lady." Arnold thought he heard Helga sniffle a bit.

"Thanks Gerald. I appreciate it." She got into her car and drove off, once again leaving Arnold confused. Gerald looked over at Arnold, a look of disbelief across his face.

"Did she just call me by my actual name? My actual name given to me at birth? What is up with her?"

"I don't know," Arnold said absently. "I still can't figure her out."

* * *

"Curly! Get your ass down from there!" Thaddeus Gamelthorpe snickered menacingly and slid down from the curtain. Helga sighed and turned her attention to the group at large. "Okay you dweebs, first thing we're going to do is run through lines. Phoebe is giving you each your own script and all your lines will be highlighted. I want you to study these till you think your head will explode, and then study them some more." A few people groaned. "Think of it as practice for that lame English class we call advanced placement." 

"Actually, Helga, I find it quite—"

"Do you want me to defend my point or do you want to get on with the script?" Everyone was silent. "That's what I thought. All right, people, from the top."

"Now, fair Hippolyta, our nuptial hour

Draws on apace. Four happy days bring in

Another moon; but, O, methinks, how slow

This old moon wanes! She lingers my desires,

Like to a stepdame, or a dowager,

Long withering out a young man's revenue."

"Stop, stop," Helga yelled as Park stopped talking. "Do you even know what the hell you just said?"

"W-well, I thought that since this was the first time we're running through our lines I didn't have to pay much attention to—"

"Oh, so you thought you could speak the words, but didn't need to know what the hell you were speaking? Actors need to know every word they are saying, as though they would say the words themselves. Everyone look at one of your lines, does anyone know what the hell Shakespeare is trying to say?" Everyone looked at their script puzzled and quite confused. Helga sighed.

"Fine, then, we won't run our script today. Instead, I want you all to go home and study your lines, write what you think it means next to the words. Don't only know what you are saying, but know what the person you are talking to and interacting with is saying."

"How do we do that?"

"Take your lines and turn it into something that is completely your own…write a spoof off the original lines."

"Why don't you give them an example, Helga," Phoebe suggested. Helga sighed and stood up, walking to the stage and staring into the empty air above their heads.

"To write, or not to write—that is the quandary

Whether 'tis braver to suffer internally

The love of my insufferable youth,

Or to beat them out with fluid words and ink;

To end their suffering. To cry, to weep—

No more—and by weeping to say we open

The chambers of a dam of fear and instead

Strive to requite—the loves love desired to be requite. To cry, to weep—

To weep perchance to sleep. Oh impediments

For in that sleep we weep. To tear a love from eyes and shrug their soul away to find

We weep into the ink of spurn."

Everyone in the auditorium fell into a dead silence. Even Curly was gaping open-mouthed at the display she just showed. This side of her, this Helga, had them shocked and amazed all at once. She was staring directly at him, a small tear sliding down her cheek…she was speaking her words to him. As Arnold let the words slowly sink in, he understood finally.

Her poetry…it was about her suffering over him.

The realization left him dizzy and a bit lightheaded. She was a poet, and he was her muse, a muse that killed her more and more each time he looked her way. Each time he said, "You really hate me, don't you," it killed her even more. How could he possibly be so dense?

"You're all dismissed," she said, rushing from the stage. Phoebe runs after her, dropping her clipboard in the process.

"Helga, do you need—"

"I need to be alone for a bit Phoebes."

"U-uh," Phoebe stuttered to the group. "I suppose we shall reconvene tomorrow to read lines. You're all dismissed." Everyone got up to leave, muttering amongst themselves about the display before them only moments earlier.

Arnold, however, was still staring at the door she left through.

She cried over him. He knew now why she no longer believed in true love. She had her pen and ink to express her loss instead of the one thing she needed most…

Him.

* * *

"Helga? It's Phoebe." 

"Oh, hey Phoebes." Helga replied tiredly over the phone.

"Look, Helga, I feel the need to apologize for getting you into this mess. If I'd have known Arnold would try out for the play, I never would have suggested that you help out and eventually become director."

"It's okay, Phoebes."

"If you feel the need to drop out at any time, don't worry. I'm sure we could find—"

"Phoebe, I'm not going to back down, and no offense, but I'm really not in the mood to talk right now."

"I understand. I'll let you get your sleep. It seems like you need it." Helga sniffed over the line.

"Yeah, I'll see you in the morning Phoebes."

Helga placed the phone down gingerly in its receiver. She sighed and blew her nose…cursing the fates that allowed her undying love to return.

* * *

A/N: Poor Helga…Sorry for not updating sooner…work has taken hold of my life as I make money for college. :) Oh, and just for the record, I adore "Jane Eyre"…I just suspect Helga wouldn't because of all the glamour Charlotte uses. Emily Bronte uses the "raw animalistic" love and I expect Helga to be more that type. Wuthering Heights is also one of my favourite books. :) Love beyond all things tangible, I want to feel that someday. 

Oh, and Robin's Clone, I appreciate the thought and understanding…my life reallyis work right now…hence I have no life and no time to write. Thanks anyway. :) I appreciate any and ALL reviews that people take time to leave. :)


	4. We Don't Have to Act

A Midsummer Night's Dream

Chapter 4: We Don't Have to Act

A/N at the bottom

* * *

"Miss Pataki, can I go through with this poetry lesson, or will I have to send you into the hall as to not contradict my teaching?" Helga smirked weakly and stood up from her seat.

"I suppose I shall save you the trouble and escort myself into the hall Mr. Broddenham." Before she left she picked up her copy of e.e.Cummings and sauntered into the hall. Everyone watched her leave, but only one pair of eyes stayed glued to the door long after it had closed.

"Arnold…Arnold." His head snapped back to the front of the room. "I asked you if you could read to us the one hundred and sixteenth sonnet by Shakespeare."

"Oh, yeah…ummm, 'Let me not to the marriage of true minds

Admit impediments.'" Suddenly, the words seemed to flow for him, as if he were hearing Helga speak them to him.

"'Love is not love

Which alters when in alteration finds

Or bends with the remover to remove.

O, no it is an ever-fixèd mark

That looks on tempests and is never shaken;

It is the star to every wand'ring bark,

Whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken.

Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks

Within his bending sickle's compass come;

Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,

But bears it out even to the edge of doom.'" These last words to come seemed almost painful to speak…

"'If this be error, and upon me proved,

I never writ, nor no man ever loved.'" Her voice faded from his head as he looked toward the door, almost seeing her sitting against the wall in the hall reading from her book.

"Arnold!" He shook his head to rid himself of this image. A few people snickered around him. "I said, what does this poem mean?"

"Oh, uhhh…it's about…well, the union of minds." Paraphrase it, right, what would Helga say? "A strong sort of love, stronger than any physical attraction. Shakespeare is saying that a love so strong is pure, unalterable and will never be broken, not even by death." Arnold glanced toward the door, half expecting Helga to be peaking into the room.

"Excellent. What Arnold here told us—"

"Can I use the bathroom Mr. Broddenham?"

"Umm, sure. As I was saying—"Arnold got up quickly from his seat and sprinted for the door, tearing it open. He looked around wildly, seeing Helga nowhere in sight.

"Shit," he cursed and paced about, thinking about where Helga could possibly have gone…

"Hey football head," A voice came from behind him, sounding a bit weary. "What are you doing out here?" He stopped pacing immediately, whipping his head in her direction.

"Helga, where did you go?" She gave him an odd look.

"Uhh, I went to the bathroom, football head. Am I not allowed to do that?" He shut his eyes that had suddenly blurred up and rubbed the heel of his palms to soothe the sting. "Are you okay Arnoldo?"

"Yeah." He looked at her. She seemed confused, with her eyebrow furrowed a bit as though she were trying to study him. He liked it. "Did you hear anything in there?"

"Um, no." Arnold's heart fell just a little. For some reason he wanted her to know that he understood the way she was feeling. "Where are you going anyway?"

"Nowhere…just to the bathroom."

"Oh. Well, want to sit out here instead of going back into that stupid class room?"

"Sure." She leaned up against the wall and slid to the floor easily. Following suit, he landed a bit harder seeing as he wasn't able to catch himself with two hands. He leaned over to see what she was reading.

"What is that?"

"e.e.Cummings, doi." Arnold sighed.

"I know that, but what are you reading?"

"Nothing."

"Yes you are, read it to me."

"You don't want to hear it."

"Yes I do."

"You won't understand it."

"Try me." Helga scowled.

"You are so freaking persistent football head. Fine, I'll read it to you." She found a comfortable position and began to read.

"i thank You God for most this amazing

day:for the leaping greenly spirits of trees

and a blue true dream of sky;and for everything

which is natural which is infinite which is yes

(i who have died am alive again today,

and this is the sun's birthday ;this is the birth

day of life and of love and wings:and of the gay

great happening illimitably earth)

how should tasting touching hearing seeing

breathing any—lifted from the no

of all nothing—human merely being

doubt unimaginable You?

(now the ears of my ears awake and

now the eyes of my eyes are opened)"

She stopped, looking up at Arnold only to see his eyes piercing through her with something in them, something strong. Dare she say lust or even…love? Only in her wildest dreams.

"I think you underestimate my intelligence, Helga."

"I-I didn't mean to say—"

"I know you didn't." Subconsciously he moved closer to her. "You don't want to believe that I can understand you."

"I-I…"

"Helga, you can come back in now…" The two shot apart quickly as Lila looked down, seeming very confused. "Whatever are you doing Arnold?"

"Um, nothing." He got to his feet and began walking into the classroom.

"But I thought you were going to the bathroom?"

"I-I did…" Lila watched him go inside, then peered down at Helga.

"Whatever is going on, Helga?"

She shrugged. "I really don't know, Lila."

* * *

A few weeks passed after the hallway incident between Arnold and Helga. They kept their distance during this time, only speaking to each other when desperately needed. This mostly included Helga yelling at Arnold every moment she got.

"Ugh! Get it right, this time, football head. We're supposed to be off book by now!" Arnold sighed exasperatedly, almost used to Helga reverting to her old ways.

"I know, Helga, I'm trying."

"Well…try harder! Someone get him a script!" Phoebe rushed to the stage and handed Arnold her book. He skimmed the page until he found the spot.

"That very time I saw, but thou couldst not,

Flying between the cold moon and the earth,

Cupid all armed. A certain aim he took

At a fair vestal thronèd by the west,

And loosed his love shaft smartly from his bow,

As it should pierce a hundred thousand hearts.

But I might see young Cupid's fiery shaft…"

"No, No, NO, Arnoldo! You're telling Puck that you love Titania!"

"But isn't he going to play a trick on her?"

"Yeah, but deep down he still loves her. He's doing it to gain power."

"I thought he wanted the changeling."

"No, the changeling is something he can't have, so he'll do anything to get it. It's a device Shakespeare uses to show that Oberon is power hungry. He doesn't want to be level with Titania, he wants to rule over her…and getting the changeling from Titania would show that he is more powerful and intelligent than she is."

"Okay." Helga sighed.

"You know what, let's run the catfight between Hermia and Helena, give football head and crazy boy a rest."

Lila, Sid, Stinky and Gloria got up on stage and prepared themselves for the lame fight scene that was about to occur.

"All right people, from Lila's line."

"O me! You juggler! You canker blossom!

You thief of love! What, have you come by night

and stol'n my love's heart from him?" Helga snickered…how badly she wanted to be Helena up there, and let Arnold be Lysander. She didn't care who Dimitrius was, as long as Helga got the guy and Lila wound up with no one.

"Fine, I' faith!" Gloria shouted at Lila.

"Have you no modesty, no maiden shame,

no touch of bashfulness? What, will you tear

impatient answers from my gentle tongue?

Fie, fie! You counterfeit, you puppet, you!"

"Puppet? Why so? Ay, that way goes the game." And they started to fight, Lila slapping Gloria first, the blonde retaliating by pulling Lila's braids. The guys looked on in glory. There was some weird thing about guys loving to watch girls fighting…something erotic that girls apparently missed. Helga saw nothing but bad acting in this fight scene. She looked over to where Arnold sat and saw him watching wide-eyed.

"Stop, stop. I wouldn't want either of you to break a nail before opening night. Why don't you four take this out in the hall and polish the scene. Everyone else is dismissed." People were walking toward their things, happy for the short rehearsal. "Except football head." Arnold sighed, grabbed his backpack and walked over to Helga.

"Yeah?" He looked up at her, but she was too busy looking at her clipboard.

"You suck at this memorization thing, you know that?"

"Thanks, Helga."

"You need someone to run your lines with you."

"If you're thinking I run them with Curly…"

"No, not him…someone else who has a lot of lines opposite you."

"Well, Sheena has been kinda busy with Environmental Club."

"Damnit."

"Do you want to help me run lines, Helga?" She scowled at him, even though he could see through her façade clearly now.

"Do I have to do everything for you, football head?"

"You could come over to my house tonight, if you don't mind my grandmother bothering us every two minutes about what to send the King of Aruba." She gave him a weird look.

"Whatever. I'll be there at seven. I want you to practice your lines before I get there."

"Sure, Helga. I'll see you then." Helga walked away wondering what the hell she got herself into.

* * *

The Sunset Arms was exactly as she had remembered it years ago. She had stopped sneaking into his house around seventh grade, but that didn't wash the memories away of what the place used to look like. Arnold's grandfather answered the door, like the many other times she had rung.

"Yeah, what do you want? We all ready paid the electric bill, stop coming by."

"No, I'm here to run lines with Arnold."

"Ohh, why didn't you say so. Come on in." Helga followed him in and he took a good look at her. "Aren't you Big Bob's kid?"

"Yep."

"Okay, I'll go get the boy. Oh, Arnold!" He yelled as he ran up the stairs.

"Yeah, grandpa?"

"Your little friend's here. The cranky one with the one eyebrow."

"Oh, Helga. Yeah, thanks Grandpa."

"No problem short man." He lowered his voice. "But keep it down, your grandma and I need to get some sleep tonight, if you know what I mean."

"Grandpa!"

"Ha ha, just kidding short man. She's waiting downstairs for ya…oh, you'd think I'd have built a tolerance to raspberries by now but they keep giving me problems." Arnold shook his head as the door to the WC closed. He peered down the stairs, seeing Helga engrossed in a conversation with his grandmother.

"Oh, Katherine, I absolutely loved that movie you did for Mr. Hughes."

"Hey Helga."

"Oh, Arnold, isn't it wonderful! Katherine Hepburn has decided to visit us! Don't you just love her work.."

"Uh, yeah Grandma. My room is upstairs, Helga."

"Don't keep her long, Arnold or she'll miss her plane back to Hollywood." Arnold tried to run upstairs as fast as he could, ushering Helga quickly into his room.

"So that's your grandma?" Arnold was afraid of what she might say. He knew his family was weird, but he didn't want to hear it from anyone else. "She's brilliant."

He couldn't believe his ears. "What?"

Helga smiled. "I think she's hilarious." Arnold's heart sank.

"I know she's a little weird, Helga…"

"I'm not saying she's weird, maybe a little eccentric, but whose not?"

"She talks to herself sometimes."

"So? Virginia Woolf talked to herself, and look at the brilliant work she came up with. Would you call her weird?"

"No…maybe eccentric."

"My point exactly, now let's pound those lines into the ground."

Arnold was surprised to see Helga in a better mood than she had been earlier, but as the moon began to wane far west, he was more than ready to call it a night.

"Now, until the break…Oh Helga I can't do this anymore."

"It's only a few more stinkin' lines Arnoldo."

"How many?"

She counted them up. "About twenty."

"Ugh." Arnold flopped backwards onto his bed, rubbing his eyes with his fist.

"Come on, Arnold, just get this monologue right and you'll have it."

"Can I do it lying down?"

Helga sighed. "Fine, you can say it lying down."

"Now, until the break of day,

Through this house each fairy stays…"

"Stray, Arnold, 'each fairy stray.'"

"…each fairy stray.

To the best bride-bed will we,

Which by us shall blessed be;

And the issue there stake…"

"Create."

"…create

Ever shall be fortunate.

So shall all the couples three

Ever true in loving be;

And the blots of Nature's hand

Shall not in their issue stand.

Never mole…never mole…"

"harelip, nor scar…"

"What is a harelip?"

"Does it really matter, football head?"

"You're the one who told us to figure out everything we're saying."

"You should have figured that out before."

"Helga…"

She sighed. "It's like a cleft lip, now keep going."

"…harelip, nor scar,

Nor mark prodigious, such as are

Despised in nativity,

Shall upon their children be.

With this field-dew consecrate,

Every fairy take his gait,

And each several chamber bless,

Through this palace, with sweet peace,

And the owner of it blest

Ever shall in safety rest.

Trip away; make no stay;

Meet me all by break of night." He looked up at her and noticed her staring up at his skylight.

"You didn't realize I made a mistake."

"Huh," she brought her eyes back to his.

"I made a mistake, on the last word. It's day, not night. You didn't notice it."

"Oh, well…it's late and I'm tired."

"Yeah."

"Maybe I'd better be getting home."

"It's late, Helga, just stay here." She sat where she was, completely shocked.

"I-I-I can't…"

"Why not? It's a Saturday tomorrow."

"P-Phoebe's waiting for me downstairs."

"Helga…" He sat next to her, holding her down by the shoulders. She relaxed in his grip and leaned against his bed.

"Arnold, what are we doing?" She looked into his eyes, trust floating around, but also confusion.

"Practicing my lines," he said truthfully. She snorted.

"I know that, but why do I need to hide from you?"

"Why are we acting?"

"I don't…know." She looked down, fidgeting with her shirt hem. He sighed and let his right hand rest on her cheek, feeling it become wet as a single tear fell. "Are we acting?"

"We don't need to."

"I, just, I…" He pulled her head so it was level with hers and took her in. Her eyes, misty from the emotions running between them, her lips, soft and warm. He ran his thumb over her bottom lip, feeling her warm breath on his hand. It sent a shock through his body. Her breathing became more shallow as his was more labored. They had said all they needed to without even saying it. All they needed was…

"Oh, Arnold…" He leaned slowly, painfully, so that his forehead was touching hers, and her hand was on his shoulder. They were level, and almost ready to…

"Cinderella, your pumpkin is here to pick you up!" They pulled back quickly, Arnold hitting his head on the shelf behind him as his grandma ran quickly to Helga and grabbing her wrist.

"You don't want it to turn into a shoe, you'd better hurry!"

"I'll see you tomorrow, Arnold." And she left the room, leaving him alone with her scent lingering to taunt him, to remind him how he had almost kissed her.

"I almost kissed her," he said aloud to himself, only to make it real and painful. And sad. He was sad, and cold. Slowly he crawled beneath the sheets of his bed and fumbled for the remote, turning his lights off.

Phoebe was waiting for Helga in the car as Helga was ushered out by Arnold's grandmother. Helga stumbled into the car as Phoebe inquired smugly what had taken Helga so long. One look at Helga's face and she had her answer.

"Phoebes, can I spend the night?"

"Of course, Helga." And they took off for Phoebe's house, straight across town from the yellow haired boy Helga had fallen in love with all over again.

* * *

Phew…well, I wanted to get that up before the new Harry Potter book came out because I'm going to be doing a lot more with my HP fic after reading the 6th book. Only one day guys! I'm really going to be up all night reading that…sad.

I've been kinda busy lately with Harry Potter, work, a book I'm writing for a company ( a motivational book), getting ready for my first year of college (woot woot!), and trying to have a social life when I'm not doing all of the above. :D

Thank you to all my reviewers! You guys keep me going! Keep those reviews coming to keep me pumped and I'll

C ya l8ter! (Wow, haven't done that in a while.)

Arnoldnhelga4eva.

Disclaimer: Although I LOVE e.e.Cummings, Shakespeare and Hey Arnold, I don't own any of the three…sorry to say. Perhaps I can equate to them some day…


	5. Air Hockey Fury

A Midsummer Night's Dream

Chapter 5: Air Hockey Fury

* * *

"What is up with you, man?"

"Huh?" Gerald shook his head, looking around the lunchroom.

"You're so high strung lately…are you all right?"

"Yeah, I'm just a little tired is all."

"You up late?"

"Yeah, with Helga."

"Helga!"

"No, no…" Arnold waved his hand to dismiss Gerald's thought. "We were running lines for the show."

"Right, I bet that's all you were doing."

"Gerald!"

"I'm just saying, you've been spending a lot of time with Helga lately. You've hardly come to any of our games…"

"I'm sorry…"

"Don't be. Everyone's worried about you. They think you're depressed because you can't play, when really you're down because you can't get the girl that you're completely, head over heals, over the moon…"

"Gerald…"

"Infatuated with." Arnold sighed.

"I'm not infatuated with her."

"Well, you sure as hell don't just like her…you like her like her," Gerald said with a smug grin. Arnold had to smile too from the nostalgia.

"Okay, fine, so I like her like her, but she's so hard to read. I mean, I know she likes me like that too, but she doesn't seem to want to talk to me or anything…I mean, what am I supposed to do?"

"Girls can be complicated, man. You gotta know how to work 'em. Take it from the pro…"

"Gerald, you didn't call me last night!" A tall blonde girl stalked up to their table with steam coming out of her ears and her arms crossed tightly.

"Hey babe, I meant to call you, but I had to take Tim to her ballet lessons…I swear, I thought of you." The girl scoffed.

"I can't believe you're using the sister excuse again. You're such a pig," she stomped away.

"I'll call you babe," he shouted after her. "See, easy as that." Arnold shook his head.

"From the pro, right?"

"Okay Arnold, this is what we're going to do…"

* * *

"Wrap it up people, we're done for the day! We only have ten rehearsals before dress rehearsal!" Helga shouted to the actors. Everyone gladly packed up as Arnold made his way over to Helga.

"Hey!"

"Um, hey yourself."

"Can I walk you home?" Helga looked toward Phoebe who smiled.

"I have to go to my fencing lesson anyway, Helga. I wouldn't want to drag you all the way down there."

"Yeah, what do you say?" Arnold leaned suavely against one of the auditorium chairs as Helga glared at Phoebe.

"Sure, why not?" Arnold smiled at Phoebe as he escorted Helga out of the auditorium and onto the street.

"Why don't you drive your car to school anymore?"

"Well, not like it's any business of yours, but Olga's back in town and what Olga wants, Olga gets."

"Is it her car?"

"Technically, it's her old car, so Bob always takes it away when she's around. She's the golden child and deserves only the best. What about you, don't have a car yet?"

"My grandpa lets me drive his Packard…"

"Yeah?"

"…but it's in the shop. I don't think there's anything that could save it now."

"I see." A terse silence fell between them again as they aimlessly walked the street. Helga wasn't even aware that they weren't going in the direction of her house, until Arnold stopped abruptly.

"Hey," he said with a dangerous glint in his eye. "Want to play air hockey?"

She stared at him with wide eyes. "What has gotten into you football head?"

"Nothing, I was just wondering…but if you're scared…"

"Bring it on," she said, stomping into the store, Arnold following her with a stupid grin on his face.

"Okay, before we start, there have to be some sort of terms."

"Terms?" she asked, clearly befuddled by this strange side to Arnold. "Are you sure you're okay, football head?"

"Yeah, I'm fine, but since I can only play with my right hand, any goal I make counts as two."

"Deal."

"And whomever wins gets to decide the wager."

"Like money?"

"No, more like…information." Helga froze in the spot, eyes darting all around for an exit.

"I-I'm not sure if I want to…"

"Scared, Helga?" It was as if they had switched roles, him being the domineering one, and her the smooth one, although her nerves were frazzled at the moment.

"N-No, of course not, football head. Why would I be scared? Just bring it." Arnold smiled smugly and hit the puck. It hardly went anywhere near Helga's goal and she slapped it back, laughing as she heard the buzzer sound.

"I think you should be scared, football head." Arnold gritted his teeth and sent the puck off again. Though he was clumsier with his right hand, he got the hang of it quickly and soon enough he was putting Helga to shame. People stopped what they were doing to watch this head-to-head battle grow fiercer between the two. The last point, sudden death, Helga moved the wrong way and it was all over. Arnold had won.

Grinning smugly, he eyed Helga who matched his gaze with fury. However, he didn't let his demeanor down and strode over to her. Throwing an arm around her shoulder, he whispered in her ear, "I think you owe me an answer now."

She pushed him away and when he looked up at her, she didn't look scared like he had anticipated. The fire that burned in her eyes was bound to tear through him and set him aflame. Never before had he seen her look at him with such hatred…and she wasn't acting this time. Beyond the fire, he could see hurt. He had hurt her, used her to force the truth out. She still wasn't ready to tell him, and he wondered if she ever would be. Without giving him a second glance, she turned and burst out of the arcade, all of hell rising around her with her exit.

Arnold slumped in defeat. Why did women have to be so damned confusing? Would he ever win? As he left the arcade, he decided that he would never again take advice from Gerald.

* * *

"You know what, why don't we call it a day."

"But Helga, we've only been rehearsing for an hour and the performance is in…"

"I know, Phoebes, if you want these dweebs to keep pounding it into the ground, then you stay here and watch them run through it again and again. I'm going home."

"Are you all right—"

"I'll be fine, Phoebe…just, I have something I need to do, okay? Take it from the asses' line."

"Hey! I'm not an ass!" Harold shouted from the stage.

"Actually, Harold, Bottom really is an ass."

"Just because I have to wear a donkey head doesn't make me an ass." Phoebe tried desperately to take control of the actors and didn't see one of them slip away after Helga.

"Hey, Helga."

"Huh? Oh, hi Curly."

"So I know about you and Arnold."

"Huh?" How could he possibly tease her like this, that little minx…she was going to strangle him until he—

"Well, it's kinda obvious, don't you think?"

"Look, Curly," she said, positively seething. "I know the entire school knows after Rhonda found my book of poetry in the sixth grade, but, why don't you go bug the people in there?"

"You don't believe me?"

"I don't believe what, Curly, what could I possibly not believe?"

"That he loves you back." Helga stopped in her tracks, completely stunned to the spot.

"What did you say?"

"He loves you back…"

"Yes, I know that, but why are you telling me this?"

"Just reciprocating the favor, you scratch my back and I'll scratch yours."

"Oh, the part?"

"Yeah, I always knew I was destined for Hollywood."

"Uh, right, Curly. Thanks."

"No problem babe." He ran back quickly to the auditorium and Helga still didn't move from her spot. Arnold loved her back? He really loved her and hadn't been teasing her? She was certain that after the air hockey incident that he was only toying with her emotions. After all, his best friend WAS Gerald…

Helga ran back into the Auditorium at full speed, making a dramatic entrance.

"Stop everything, people! We only have five more rehearsals until opening night!" Everyone stared at her as though she had grown two heads. Only Phoebe and Arnold smiled in her direction. "Park, Nadine, I want you to take it from the top. Lights, Peapod Kid! We've got a show to make perfect! What the hell are you all doing staring at me like that! Get into place!" All the actors and tech crew backstage scurried about getting ready for the opening scene. Helga crossed her arms and smiled at her creation.

Phoebe came up behind her. "It's good to have you back, Helga."

Helga smiled at her best friend in the entire world. "It's great to be back Phoebes."

* * *

Yay! Helga had her epiphany! Now when will she finally tell Arnold? Sorry the chapter is so short, but I want to prolong this story just a bit more, and this just seemed like a good place to stop.

So who else thought the newest Harry Potter book wasn't worth wasting paper...for the first 500 pages at least. The ending (the way she wrote it) was fabulous, but the rest of the book could have been written better.

Harry Potter is still my favourite book series, despite my lack in interest of the sixth book.

Review and I'll give you a new chapter. :)

C ya l8ter

Arnoldnhelga4eva


	6. Bullshit

Chapter Six: Bullshit

* * *

"All right, class, the moment you've all been waiting for, our final exam of the year." The entire class groaned, but Mr. Brodenham decided to ignore it. "This is no ordinary test like in your Science or History classes, this is an entire essay test. I don't want to know the facts, I want to know what insight you've gained throughout this quarter. Tell me what you've learned, or if you haven't learned anything at all."

"That will be at least half the class," Helga mumbled under her breath. Arnold (who sat next to her more often now) had to stifle a laugh. Of course Helga would say something like that.

After the whole hockey incident and Helga's little break down, Arnold was always with her, but was careful to keep his distance. Helga, on the other hand, didn't mind his company, but still she would not tell him the thing they both knew…that everyone knew. What everyone didn't know, was that Arnold felt the same way, but he wouldn't let her know until she finally confessed. He was willing to give her that time to ready herself.

"I will give you the duration of the class period to finish this. Once the bell rings…" he looked at Helga who glared back. "…your time is up. Starting now."

Pencils started scribbling straight away, but Helga kept her brows furrowed and her stare on her incarcerate teacher. He did not teach them anything this quarter, but only made them read books and told them his own views. Not once did he ask for another opinion. Of course, he wanted them to give him approval for his own theories, but every time Helga had challenged him, he closed off. To him, her theories were crap; meant nothing to him. No one told Helga G. Pataki that she didn't have the possibility of being right. Even though Mr. Brodenham never said it out loud, she knew he was thinking it. He despised her as much as she loathed him.

After what hardly seemed like enough time, the bell rang, and chairs shuffled as students grudgingly turned in their half-attempted essays.

"What did you think of the test, Helga?" Arnold asked as he stood up from his desk. He gasped when he looked at her paper that was left completely blank. How could…why would…Helga Pataki didn't just leave an essay blank. "Helga, what—"

"I didn't take it, Arnold," she said without looking at him. "I don't agree with proving Mr. Brodenham's points for him, especially since he and I don't agree on anything, so I rescued him from the heartache of correcting my paper and left it blank."

Mr. Brodenham, who had been listening to their entire conversation, walked over to Helga's desk with a frown. "Pataki, I need to talk to you. Can you give us a minute, Arnold?"

"S-sure," Arnold stammered, still quite shocked. "I'll see you at dress rehearsal, Helga."

He couldn't believe it…he didn't want to believe it. Why would Helga intentionally leave an entire essay test blank, even if she didn't agree with he teacher's theories? Something was bugging her…something that had to do with…

Him.

She didn't know how to handle this new side he was showing her, and Arnold didn't know how else to tell her other than trying to get it out of her. He had to find Gerald…even if his plan didn't work the first time, he just had to help him with this. Since Gerald's parents were out of town, all he needed was an empty house and a bunch of people. Helga seemed to always freak out when she was alone with him…but if there were people around, she always…

Arnold didn't waste any time running off to find his best friend.

* * *

"Are we all here?"

"Here's a dandy and convenient place for our rehearsal. This green plot shall be our stage…"

"No, no, NO…Stinky." Helga yelled before slapping her hand to her forehead. "The line's 'Here's a marvelous convenient place'…stop throwing words in there."

"But Helga, it just don't make no sense. It ain't proper English." Helga sighed deeply and covered her face with her hands.

"Just say what the lines are. I don't care if it doesn't sound right. Shakespeare wrote it, and professionals abridged it…"

"What the hell's abridged mean?"

"That doesn't matter…just start the scene over, and Harold, the line is 'Are we all met,' met meaning here."

"But—"

"Just…do…it," Helga seethed through clenched teeth. She closed her eyes tightly and took a deep breath. "From the top of the scene. Harold, your line."

"Are we all met?"

"Here's a marvelous convenient place for our rehearsal. This green plot shall be our stage."

"Peter Quince"

"What sayest thou, bully Bottom?"

"There are things in this comedy of Pyramus and Thisbe that will never please. First, Pyramus must draw a sword to kill himself; which the ladies cannot abide. How answer you that?"

"By'r lakin, a parlous fear"

And so it went on…despite the few setbacks some of the actors brought about, it went pretty well. Helga was confident that she could send these people out on stage without needing to hang herself.

And then Arnold came on stage…

"I go, I go! Look how I go! Ahahaha!" Curly screamed while running off the stage like the lunatic he was. Arnold, on the other hand, bent down with a flower in his hand and squeezed the juices of the onto Iggy's eyes.

"When his love he doth espy,

Let her shine as gloriously

When thou wakest, if she be by,

Beg of her for remedy." His words were so calm, so soothing, and after he spoke them, he made a point to look at Helga and linger his gaze for a moment too long.

"Captain of our fairy band! Uhhhh, Captain?" Arnold was broken from his trance and turned his head once again to see Curly at his side.

"Uhhh, yes?"

"Helena is here at hand;

And the youth, mistook by me,

Pleading for a lover's fee.

Shall we their fond pageant see?

Lord, what fools these mortals be!"

"Yes, what fools indeed." Helga whispered to herself.

They got through the rest quite spotless, and when Helga ordered everyone to start packing up, Arnold made an announcement.

"Hey! I'm having a cast party tonight…kinda like a pre-show thing. Everyone who wants to come is welcome…and bring friends. It's at Gerald's house."

"That sounds like fun, doesn't it Helga?" Phoebe asked as she was putting her headset in her backpack.

"Yeah, I don't know if I'm going to go…"

"What?" Two voices said the same thing at the same time. Phoebe was looking at her as though she'd gone mad again, and when she turned around, Arnold looked crushed.

"Why don't you want to come?" Arnold asked.

"I-I don't know…I'm just, tired is all."

"But you can't let Phoebe go all by herself, and everyone wants you to come."

"I have to get ready to re-take that test in English."

"Helga, when have you ever needed to study for an English test?" This time both Arnold and Helga stared at Phoebe. These words did not come out of Phoebe Hyerdahl's mouth.

"Phoebe, what has gotten into you?"

"Helga, go to the party. It's our senior year, and we're supposed to be having fun. I know you want to go." She fixed her friend with a knowing look that finally broke her resolve.

"Fine, I'll go to the stupid party, but only for you, Phoebe."

"Great, I'll see you both then. Oh, and Phoebe, I'm sure Gerald will be thrilled that you're coming." If it were at all possible for Phoebe to turn bright red, she did so in that moment.

* * *

From the outside of the Johansson residence, it looked like a lovely house that had gone down for the night, but the party going on in the house proved that theory invalid.

Everyone from the cast, and all their friends who brought even more friends had come, it was quite the party. The whole of the senior class had showed up, all but two people…

"Have you seen Helga?" Arnold asked Gerald. His friend shrugged.

"Nope, but when you see Phoebe, let her know that I dig her. Hey babe! What are you doing with that vase?" Gerald rushed off to tend to a drunk girl. Arnold sighed. Gerald had bribed Jamie-O to pick up a keg and some coolers on his way back from his football practice. Jamie-O was the second-string quarterback for a professional football team. At the moment he was entertaining some girls with the exquisite details of his last game, while giving them autographs.

"Hey Arnold!" He turned around and Gerald nodded his head toward the door. There was Phoebe Hyerdahl, and Helga Pataki. Gerald rushed forward right away.

"Hey babe, how _you_ doin'?" Phoebe giggled and Helga rolled her eyes. She watched Gerald drag Phoebe off before she saw Arnold.

"So I guess they ditched us, huh?"

"Yeah, I guess so."

"So what's hairboy got, football head? You promised me a party and I am here to party." Arnold grinned. He was glad to see Helga back to normal…

A while later, the party was thinning out, people were leaving, and Arnold found himself on the roof of Gerald's house, a few bottles of Corona littered around them and a two shot glasses between him and Helga.

"Bullshit." Arnold sighed and took a shot.

"Fine, my turn."

"Did you know your head looks like a football?"

"Yeah, that's why you call me football head."

"Psht, I know that. I was thinking it was a fununy thing." Arnold started laughing. "What?"

"Fununy isn't a word." Helga joined in with his hysteric laughing.

"Shut up."

"Fine, my turn." Although he wasn't drunk, being tipsy always made his brain work a lot slower. "Well, I don't know Helga, why won't you tell me anything?"

"What do you mean?"

"I don't know." Suddenly they both broke down into a fit of laughter and through Arnold's hazy mind, he wondered why no one could hear them. "Because I hate you."

"Bullshit." Helga sighed and took a shot of the goldish liquid. "I can't bullshit you, can I?"

Arnold looked at her with darkened eyes, his face getting serious and he was becoming a bit more sober with the intensity of the situation. "Why do you think you can bullshit me?"

"Because you're a doofus and don't know me at all."

"Bullshit." He poured her another shot and she downed it.

"Because there's nothing for me to bullshit about."

"Bullshit." She made to reach for another shot, but Arnold pulled her hand away. "Helga, stop this. Why won't you talk to me?"

"There's nothing going on, football head."

"Bullshit." Instead of letting Helga take the last shot, he did it himself. Strangely enough, in that moment, Helga trusted Arnold more than anything in the world. He was showing her that he would do anything for her, that he truly cared for her…and it scared her.

"L-look, Arnold. I'm just scared, is all." He moved in closer to her.

"What do you have to be scared of?"

"If I told you, I'd be putting everything I have into something serious. I've had fifteen years to build on…"

"Fifteen years?" Helga was suddenly quiet and peered over the edge of the roof. People were sporadically leaving the house.

"Look, Arnold, maybe we'd better…" Her words were cut short when Arnold pulled her face to his own, and pressed his lips to hers. Helga's eyes went wide, but shut tightly as a few tears leaked from them. Arnold opened his mouth a bit and Helga copied his action, letting her tongue slide with his. She pulled away quickly, recoiling from him.

"W-what's wrong?"

"We've had a lot to drink, Arnold…"

"No we haven't had hardly anything, don't do this again, Helga…"

"No, you listen to me!" Helga sobbed. "You don't understand how big this is for me! I-I just can't take the emotional strain of this right now…I need…I need…"

"What do you need?"

"I need you to let me sort this out."

"But I lo—"

"Don't say it…just…I'll see you tomorrow, football head." Arnold couldn't say anything, but watched her leave through the roof door. After a moment he scrambled to the edge of the roof and watched her from above as she walk through the front door.

"I love you, Helga Pataki!" She looked up for a moment, then bowed her head as she walked down the street. "I know you can't fathom it, but I do! I love you." Helga put her hands over her ears and broke into a run until Arnold couldn't see her anymore. Helga had him locked up; completely mad for her. His mind was reeling and he didn't know what to do with himself other than to slump down in the corner of the roof and let his eyes flood. The blurriness that came from the alcohol and tears blocked him from seeing Phoebe walk over to him. She sat across from him and placed her hand on his own.

"Arnold, tell me everything."

"I-I can't…"he sobbed. "She…I love…"

"I know, but Helga's really confused right now. She finds herself incapable of love by anyone."

"But I…"

"I know you do, so if I'm going to help you two out, I need you to tell me everything from the time you saved our neighborhood. Tell me what happened on top of the FTi building."

"She hasn't told you?"

"Her life has been traumatized by her family, the only person she opens up to is her therapist. I need you to tell me what happened so I can talk to her." Arnold took a deep breath and wiped at his eyes.

"Well, there was this guy that called me and Gerald when the whole thing started, Deep Voice…"

* * *

A/N: Sorry that took so long, I've been very busy getting everything ready for college. Reviews are always much appreciated, and thank you for reading. The last chapter will be up as soon as I write it. :) Don't worry, the finale is always the best part of the show! 


	7. Acting No More

Chapter 7: Acting No More

If Helga had been a little cold toward Arnold before, it was nothing in comparison to how she was acting now. English class was hell, not only because Mr. Broddenham had a smug look on his face for making the potentially brightest student in his class retake a tesk, but because Helga had to retake the test. She had been in the hall since before school started, and was still out there. Mr. Broddenham was talking to the class with a sort of air one would not normally obtain having just forced a genius to retake a test.

"So, who really understands Mr. Cummings anyway?" Mr. Broddenham drawled. "He wrote his poetry so that no one could understand it, simple enough. That's why it's so damn popular."

"But, sir…"

"No, Miss Hyerdahl, don't you understand? That's the so-called 'genius' behind Cummings, complete mumbo jumbo." In that moment, Arnold saw what Helga had seen in their professor since the first day of the term…something he and the rest of the class had failed to notice.

"Who can tell me the meaning of Buffalo Bill's Defunct, huh?" Mr. Broddenham slapped a transparency onto the overhead and turned it on, illuminating the magical words onto the whiteboard. "Who can honestly tell me what Mr. Cummings is saying?"

"Helga could," a strong voice came from the middle of the classroom. Mr. Broddenham looked beyond shocked.

"Arnold, Miss Pataki clearly doesn't know what she's talking about…"

"Of course she does, you just don't have an open mind to her opinions."

"Well if we're going to talk about open minds, I'd say she's lacking one too."

"She never said you were wrong, she only disagreed with your points." This was Phoebe who chimed in. Arnold smiled in her direction for the support and then added, "I think you're the one who doesn't understand the content, Mr. Broddenham."

The class went silent, even the usual cricket in the corner could not be heard. Arnold had just done something serious…talking back to a teacher like that. That deserved punishment, no…it deserved a failing grade. Instead, Mr. Broddenham walked in front of Arnold's desk and looked him deathly into the eyes.

"You dare to take a stab at the poem?" Arnold glared back with equal fervor. What he didn't see was Helga poke her head into the room to see what all the commotion was about.

"Yeah, I do." Mr. Broddenham waved his hand a bit nervously toward the print on the wall. Arnold stared long and hard at the words once written by a famous man…words that few understood, and that he would need to understand within the next few moments.

"Care for me to read it aloud to you, Arnold?" The teacher asked smugly.

"If it helps you." Mr. Broddenham sneered and walked to the back of the classroom.

_Okay, _

_Buffalo Bill's_

_defunct_

_who used to_

_ride a watersmooth-silver_

_stallion_

_and break onetwothreefourfive pigeonsjustlikethat_

_Jesus_

_he was a handsome man_

_and what i want to know is_

_how do you like you blueeyed boy_

_Mister Death_

_So Buffalo Bill is the character, he seems to be recallingt a showdown, and he…_

Arnold got excited, he knew what it was about…

"Well, Mr. Broddenham, it's simple enough to assume that Buffalo Bill is the narrator of this poem and that he's reminiscing his own life and death…" The teacher's jaw grew slack…this was obviously all coming together for him now.

"Buffalo Bill is telling the reader how good of a rider he was, how good of a shot he had, and was wondering how he died after being able to escape death so well…" Helga was beaming from the doorway.

"I get it now!" Someone from the back shouted. Everyone around Arnold started whispering and making comments about the poem while Mr. Broddenham stood slack in the back of the room as the bell rang and people filed out. As Arnold was leaving the room with a few pats on the back, Helga stood up and stopped him from leaving.

"Hey, uh…football head…" he looked shocked for a moment and she looked down at her feet. He wiped the look of shock off his face and smiled to encourage her. "That was some good thinking you did in there, put that bastard of a teacher in his place."

Arnold smiled warmly. "Thanks, Helga." She thumped him on the back and smiled back.

"You'd better not be late to the show tonight, Arnoldo." Arnold only laughed.

"I wouldn't dream of it." He started walking away, completely elated from her words. Praise coming from her, it was rare, and he wanted to remember it for a long time to come.

"Hey Arnold!" Someone called from behind him. When he turned around, Phoebe Hyerdahl was running to catch up with him, a large grin on her face.

"She couldn't believe you stood up for her like that, Arnold…" He looked down at his feet. "No, really! Granted she was surprised that you knew so much about English, but she was really proud of you, Arnold. All you need to do is gain her trust." He nodded in agreement. What Phoebe didn't know was that he had a plan, something that was fool proof, and wouldn't fail again.

Arnold looked down at his left arm that was finally free from the cast and marched on into the day.

* * *

"Phoebe, what the hell am I doing?" Phoebe looked up from her lunch to throw an inquisitive stare in her direction.

"What do you mean, Helga?"

"I mean, why is this so hard for me? I love Arnold, he said he loved me, so why can't I just let him love me?" Phoebe set her cup of tapioca pudding down and adjusted her glasses.

"It's a simple method that Freud explained some time ago about the subconscious…"

"English, Phoebe."

"Right. Basically, because you didn't have a good relationship with your own father or mother, it is hard for you to trust people well enough for them to get close to you. By no means are you doing it intentionally, but instead you are subconsciously protecting yourself from getting hurt emotionally. Your subconscious has decided that it would suffer less from pining for him than from breaking up with him…"

"Wait wait wait, Phoebe, you're jumping the gun here, breaking up with him? We haven't even started going out yet."

"Yes, but that is how your subconscious is working. It plans ahead to prevent potentially harmful events in the future. That is what makes you a very sensible person, Helga. Your subconscious is always prepared. Some people have no inner mind and instead throw themselves at whoever is around, ultimately getting hurt in the end. You could say your parents' neglection in your earlier years helped build this block in your mind."

Helga couldn't even say anything…she could only sit there and stare at Phoebe, her half-eaten sandwich limp in her hands.

"Those sons of bitches."

"Look, Helga, I know it's a lot to handle, love and everything, but it's also something you're very capable of doing."

"Wait a minute, Phoebes, when we started this whole thing, you told me to work on the play so that I could get over Arnold, and now you're telling me to go for it?"

"Previously I wasn't sure of his intentions toward you, but after having discussed the situation thoroughly with him…"

"Woah woah, wait a minute…you talked to HIM about this?"

"You said it yourself, Helga, he all ready knows…in fact, _you_ all ready know. I don't know why you're worried that I talked to him about this."

"I-I don't know, I just…"

"I know."

"So he definitely said…"

"Very much so."

"I see." Helga got up, leaving her half-eaten sandwich on the table and walked out of the lunch room, leaving Phoebe to sit in the middle of the lunch room by herself. Seeing this opportunity, a dark-skinned man with tall hair sauntered over to her and kissed her lightly on the cheek, though lingering there for a while. Phoebe smiled.

"Hi Gerald."

"She fuck him yet?"

"No."

"Man, that girl's gotta lighten up. Arnold's a wreck."

"Where is he?"

"In the auditorium." Phoebe smiled.

"Good, because I think that's where Helga's headed right now."

* * *

Arnold needed a break from everything, from everyone…but especially from her. The girl who had once bullied and tormented him mercilessly was now driving him insane. He couldn't handle her mood swings…he needed some peace and quiet, and a place that reminded him of her.

That's how Arnold found himself in the auditorium of their high school.

Arnold looked around the large room; looked at the scenery all ready for that night. He could almost picture himself onstage, speaking the words of Oberon in a proud voice, but Sheena was not his Titania, oh no. It was Helga…

Titania, the fairy queen of Oberon. He wanted more than anything in the world to ask Sheena to bow out and let Helga play the part, if only tonight.

Suddenly, the doors to the auditorium burst wide open and a frazzled looking Helga came bursting in, not even seeing Arnold sitting on the side of the darkened stage.

"Why do I do this to myself?" Helga cried, much like she did in her ranting days. "Why must my subconscious torture me so?" Arnold wanted to speak, but instead he let her get out whatever was on her chest.

"So what if he loves me back and my deepest dreams are finally surfacing? My heart is shattering into a million pieces just thinking that he loves me. Why do I resent love so much, yet need it so desperately? Of course, I'd love to think we could love each other and leave it at that, but love is not all there is…how could I live if we broke up…"

"Then we'd never break up." Helga looked up, startled, and traced the voice to Arnold, who was walking toward her. "Helga, I love you…what else do you want from me?"

"A-arnold?"

"Helga, this scares me too, but I'm more scared with how much I love you." He was nearing her.

She was backing up. "I could never live if something happened, you know that, right?"

"I know, but wouldn't you be happier if we both felt love together?" He could almost touch her.

Her back hit the wall behind her. "I would never breathe again, I would die from horror, from shock…"

"We could be happier if we shared everything, instead of keeping it inside…" Arnold put his hands on her arms.

Helga tensed up, but relaxed with a shiver as he massaged her arms. "I can't fathom it, your love for me when it's been unrequited for so long, Arnold." He let go of her arms and stared at her. "All my life, any love I've harbored for anyone, especially the love I've felt for you, has never been returned. It's so much easier for me to love from afar…it's safe and I can predict it. Hearing that you love me, I wonder if it's real, or how long it could last…"

"This is forever, Helga." He grabbed hold of her arms again and gave her a small shake. "This is it for me. I could never love anyone this much, not even if you died…I could never search for anyone else. The day you die, I die." His eyes were leaking tears. It scared her, to see him worked up like this…to see the reflection of passion in his words. She almost felt as though she had said them herself.

This made her cry along with him. For the first time in her life, Helga Pataki pulled the sobbing form of her undying love into her arms and let him weep on her shoulder. She joined him as they sank to the floor together, merely holding each other in silence.

"If-if we got together, I'd never be able to part from you." Arnold lifted his head from her shoulder.

"We'd never break up…"

"No, I don't mean that…I mean I'd never be able to be apart from you." She looked more beautiful than he'd ever seen her in this moment. "Being away from you would kill me. I'd be too clingy."

"I'd be the same way."

"Do you really mean that?"

"Of course I do. Helga, I would kill men that kept me away from you." Arnold never talked of murder, no. He was a Samaritan, a good man. A man that promoted peace in the world and solved problems. Benevolent, in many opinions, but Helga now thought of him as primal; animalistic. He was now like her, the passion in his love for her driving out all reason and sense.

So she acted on instinct, pushing him to the floor and encasing him with her arms, straddling him on either side. Before he could get a breath out she kissed him with all the energy she had. Gathering up anything left in him, he pulled her body flush against his and gave her exactly what she wanted. It wasn't enough, for either of them. They needed something…something more. For the moment at hand, they simply kissed and let electricity pass through and bond them tighter. This was until, electricity wasn't enough, and something more was ensued. Phoebe and Gerald found them like this, groping and utterly oblivious to an audience quite relentless to view much more. They left Arnold and Helga in the auditorium to work out their differences…or rather, similarity, with wide eyes and pale skin. A discussion was necessary…later of course. For now, Phoebe and Gerald walked on to class, leaving the awkward topic for another time.

* * *

It was opening night. Not a seat was empty. Everyone in the school wanted to see the wonder Helga Pataki herself had ingeniously pulled together. Even William Thornstock, the stuffy Hollywood director had gotten clearance from his doctors to attend the play. Of course, he was expecting a complete mess of lines that had once been Shakespeare. He wasn't aware that a young woman was soon to blow years of work he had done with actors right out the window.

The lights dimmed, and a single spotlight focused on a center point in the middle of the stage. Arnold pulled his lips from Helga long enough to mumble something incoherent.

She laughed as he ran his lips along her neck. "What did you say?"

"I think you're supposed to go on." Helga looked up at the stage.

"Shit."

"I love you," he mumbled as she ran onto stage, looking quite dishevled and puffy-lipped from where he had just ravished her. It made him smile.

Helga took a few deep breaths to steady herself and try to remember what she was supposed to say. "Thank you, everyone for coming here tonight." She was almost speechless to see the house packed. "This show has been a surprise for me, and has fallen into place just in time. Things were a bit rocky at first, but everything worked out in the end." Arnold smiled.

"Yeah, I have nothing more to say, so I'll let the actors speak for themselves. Enjoy the show." Everyone clapped as Helga exited the stage and made her way into the audience. The curtains pulled back to produce a brilliant set, feeling as though every member of the audience was pulled into it. Then, it started.

"Now, fair Hippolyta, our nuptial hour  
Draws on apace; four happy days bring in  
Another moon: but, O, methinks, how slow  
This old moon wanes! she lingers my desires,  
Like to a step-dame or a dowager  
Long withering out a young man revenue."

Though the language was confusing, the audience could relate; could understand every word as though they spoke the Shakespearian language each day of their life. Helga had taught the actors to tell their message instead of speaking it. When Arnold came on stage, the whole world stopped as Helga took in his beauty; the handsome figure that she could call a part of her own. The salient young man, was now the man who loved her.

"Ill met by moonlight, proud Titania." Arnold walked across the stage, glittering in gold fabric and sparkles, looking much like a fairy. He was to speak these lines to Titania, but he sought Helga out in the audience and fixed his gaze on her.

Arnold performed most magnificently…in Helga's biased opinion, he was the best one out there. Someone who had surprised her, was Curly, who fit his part most perfectly.

"About the wood go swifter than the wind," Arnold was gesturing wildly.  
"And Helena of Athens look thou find:  
All fancy-sick she is and pale of cheer,  
With sighs of love, that costs the fresh blood dear:  
By some illusion see thou bring her here:  
I'll charm his eyes against she do appear."

"I go, I go; look how I go,  
Swifter than arrow from the Tartar's bow." Curly hopped on the bicycle Helena had carelessly dropped and rode off stage to the audience's chortling. Helga noticed that even Thornstock was laughing.

As the play was nearing to a close, Helga saw something out of the corner of her eye that surprised her beyond all belief.

Mr. Broddenham had walked into the theater.

Curly was the last person on stage, and he looked into the audience, at no person in particular. He just looked to the people.

"If we shadows have offended,  
Think but this, and all is mended,  
That you have but slumber'd here  
While these visions did appear.  
And this weak and idle theme,  
No more yielding but a dream,  
Gentles, do not reprehend:  
if you pardon, we will mend:  
And, as I am an honest Puck,  
If we have unearned luck  
Now to 'scape the serpent's tongue,  
We will make amends ere long;  
Else the Puck a liar call;  
So, good night unto you all.  
Give me your hands, if we be friends,  
And Robin shall restore amends."

He laughed manically and ran off stage. At first, not a person knew what to say. Suddenly, a single person could be heard applauding. All eyes turned to the sound to see William Thornstock in tears, clapping as though his life depended on it. Slowly, the people around him began to clap as well and Mr. Broddenham walked over to Helga.

"Stand up, Pataki." Helga looked at him quizzically, but obeyed. As she stood up, the applause grew as all the actors came out on stage and cheered Helga. Her smile broke out into a grin as she started to turn pink in the cheeks. The applause turned into a roar of approval as the audience and actors cheered for Helga. She looked up to the stage and saw Arnold doing nothing but smiling at her. That smile meant everything to her. Looking around, she took in the moment that began her road to success…the first thing she had done in her life to receive praise. A few tears escaped her eyes and she sat down, as to prevent herself from fainting.

Mr. Broddenham took her by the arm and escorted her from the theater as people followed, asking her question upon question about the play. She stood there for the longest time answering them and accepting praise. It was a strange experience for her, people actually telling her that her work was acceptional.

"Helga! The performance was even more wonderful than I had fathomed!" Phoebe came running from back stage and drew Helga into a big hug. Helga laughed and hugged her friend back.

"Thank you for making me do this, Phoebs."

"Anytime, Helga."

"Don't I get a hug?" Helga let go of Phoebe and turned around. There was Arnold, still dressed in glitter and gold. She smiled and threw her arms around him, not only hugging him deeply, but kissing him deeper. A few catcalls and whistles were thrown out, but for the first time, Helga did not care. She would not allow herself to be embarrassed. For the first time in her life, she was happy. The man she loved was contentedly in her arms and loved her back. The magic she had dreamed of nightly had finally come true.

There's a place in our lives where all insanity seems reality. For Arnold and Helga, that was this moment. Where insanity turns into passion and love, and it all seems to be a dream. Every moment is spent wondering whether this life is just a dream, or if reality can truly be just as wonderful. We all wonder, at one point in our lives, if insanity, is equal to love. Helga Pataki will say that her life is wildly insane as all the oceans of the world calm and she can swim in the pools of love, finally accompanied by another.

* * *

Wow…that's the end…It was a good run and I loved writing this story. I've been thinking of a sequel...if I get enough reviews, I will write one. Thank you to everyone who reviewed, and please visit my other stories. :) Until I write again,

C ya l8ter!

Arnoldnhelga4eva


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